


a lifetime waiting for us (all this time i've been yours)

by momobamiyuki



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Noir AU, bartender hope and actress lizzie, hope and lizzie r homosexuals in the 40s??, might as well be a character study on hope's relationships, murder mystery too bcs nth gayer than adding murder, set a year after s2, the simulation but better, what if the noir au was gayer and only had hizzie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25731844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momobamiyuki/pseuds/momobamiyuki
Summary: “Let’s hope another murder in my club doesn’t happen then.”The challenge is clear in her words, the trap laid bare and clean. Lizzie, for all its worth, doesn’t show any emotion, her face a practiced calm only actresses could put on.“I hope the same, darling.”or: Hope and Lizzie in the noir times where the mystery isn't just the weird murders
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Lizzie Saltzman
Comments: 5
Kudos: 60





	a lifetime waiting for us (all this time i've been yours)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notorious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notorious/gifts).



> heyyyy,,, how ya doing,,,,, coming hot with this noir au that ive had in my docs since march but posting now bcs HAPPY BDAY JACK MY BESTIE ILY!!! 
> 
> do enjoy and please COMMENT AND KUDO ME!!! 
> 
> ALSO PAY ATTENTION TO THE NOTES AT THE END!!

The lovely tune of jazz echoes around the bar as Hope cleans a few glasses. The low lights reflect on them as she steps behind the counter. She’s familiar with this place, grabs each bottle professionally and fills each glass half full.

Her ears catch the familiar sound of heels before her eyes do. Hope doesn’t fret- she knows nothing could slow her closing the shop early. Even the blonde sitting before her, who was the reason why men wished to be young again and why she’d heard about a secret club opened downtown, the smoke of the cigarettes clouding and hiding the skirts too close to each other.

“A glass of gin,” says the woman. Hope only raises an eyebrow and her hands, one cleaning a glass and the other pointing to the door.

“Must have missed the _closed_ sign, I assume that’s why you’re here.” The blonde seems almost offended, yet Hope catches the slight amusement in her eyes.

“I know the bartender, so you assume wrong.”

Hope smiles, filling the glass without a reply. She knows when to tease Lizzie and when to give her what she wants.

Lizzie drinks it slowly, eyes focused on Hope, on how quickly she finishes cleaning and how she does the inventory. The blue of her eyes makes Lizzie think of the neon lights on set, so bright and blinding, of the ocean she and Josie saw once, refreshing and almost like freedom.

“Enjoying the drink?”

Lizzie looks down, watches in fascination at the opaque liquid swirling through the ice. “Have tasted better.”

Hope leans beside her. Lizzie can almost feel the warmth of her arm from her hand resting on the counter.

“Oh? Where?”

Hook, line, and sinker. Lizzie enjoys how easily she falls for the innocent question.

“Usually, the good stuff _someone_ keeps in the back,” she replies, her tone on the edge of sultry, on the edge of a promise left unspoken.

Hope can only smirk, grabs Lizzie’s drink and downs it with a single gulp. A drop of the drink slips from her lips, one she wipes away with her tongue.

Lizzie doesn’t break eye contact as she cleans the rest with her thumb, blue eyes cloudy from the alcohol and something more. Hope enjoys the warmth of her hand, of how Lizzie doesn’t lean closer, keeps her distance.

“Go home, Lizzie. I’m sure Josie won’t approve of her sister being caught in a bar like this.”

“I’ll have you know, Josie enjoys coming here, too.” Lizzie does get up, though, slipping her coat on. Hope hands Lizzie her bag, which she takes, dragging her fingers against Hope’s.

Hope moves away then, turning off the lights, and everything is shrouded in darkness.

“Goodnight, Hope.”

She smiles, even if no one sees it. “Goodnight to you too, Elizabeth.”

When she turns a moment later, eyes fixed on a picture of her family for too long, Lizzie has already disappeared.

* * *

_“Is this seat taken?”_

_Hope isn’t surprised by the feminine voice, and she smiles pleasantly when she raises her head. She had time and time again heard from her customers about a beautiful blonde who would come to the bar and sit close to the back entrance._

_She figured out it wouldn’t be long before she’d have the chance to speak to the stranger._

_“Unless you want to kill me, it’s open to anyone.”_

_Lizzie laughs, sits before her with grace and when she leans to rest her drink on the counter with a delicate hand, Hope notices the gun under her coat._

_Ah. She hadn’t considered this possibility when she wondered what the voices were preparing her for._ _Deadly beauty indeed._

_But Hope doesn’t care, dismisses the thought and falls into an easy conversation with Lizzie. She’s intelligent and silver-tongued, quick with her replies and so,_ so _beautiful._

_Hope is idly reminded of foggy visions, memories. Dark coats and small smiles in the fresh air of the woods._

_Hope doesn’t pursue her more than that. It’s the picture of Landon behind her, one Lizzie notices, that holds her back. One that Hope knows is more of an anchor keeping her in place than a loving memory._

_Lizzie leaves with a promise to come back and Hope lets her go._

_Just because she had talked to the beauty didn’t mean her yearning for her was enough for Hope to chase after her._

_Lizzie, not surprisingly, keeps her promise. She comes when the moon is out and when the only noises Hope can hear are the laughs of the men walking home outside of the dark and closed bar._

_“Came back for more?”_

_Lizzie laughs. “It seems last night was better than I expected.”_

_Hope looks behind her with a smirk. “I’m judging the quality of your friendships if last night was good enough to make you break into a closed club.”_

_“The door was unlocked.”_

_The lie is almost too easy to see through. “Let’s hope your friendships aren’t as terrible as your lies.”_

_Lizzie only leans on the counter, eyes darkening. Hope can smell the perfume hanging in the air around her, fruity and dense._

_“Or as terrific as your security.”_

_Hope looks first at her eyes and then they dip to her exposed midriff, then to how Lizzie’s short nails tap a tune on the cold wood._ _“What is it that you want, Lizzie?”_

_Lizzie smirks, tilts her head to the side._ _Hope can see why she’s an actress, how easy she’d trap the viewer under her gaze. Not many had that ability, but Hope knew Lizzie had been born with it._

_“Some good stuff. Preferably better than the gin you gave me last night.”_

_The tapping stops. Lizzie’s hand rests fully on the wood. Hope’s grip the counter across from her._

_“I keep it in the back,” whispers Hope, her tone almost a prayer, almost too close to a request._

_That’s enough for Lizzie. She gets up gracefully and rests her bag on the polished wood, slips beside Hope, who walks around the counter._

_“No need to worry about the door, I closed it on my way here.”_

_Those are the last words they utter until Lizzie leaves, her lipstick a mark on her empty glass and on Hope’s skin._

_And with kisses shared in the darkness, it’s how everything begins._

* * *

“Josie told me that coming here might be bad publicity.”

Hope looks up to Lizzie and shrugs. A man asks her for some scotch and she fills his glass with a steady hand, taking his money with a smile. Lizzie’s eyes follow her hand as she tucks the dollars inside her shirt.

“Why are you still coming, then?”

“She might have a crush on you,” says Lizzie instead. 

Hope thinks about brown eyes and a tight smile, of Josie’s perfume, not as strong as Lizzie’s and how her voice is softer with Hope, yet sharp with an edge Hope hasn’t yet figured out the reason for. She only hums to acknowledge Lizzie. “There was a murder close to your set.”

Lizzie ignores how Hope changes the subject, lets her have that one. Hope was glad Lizzie had understood that when she didn’t want to speak, she wouldn’t utter a single word.

“Indeed. A friend of mine, Milton, is on the case. It seems to be a crime of passion.” Hope laughs, fills Lizzie’s glass again and doesn’t take the bill Lizzie puts beside it. “Quite ironic, considering what you’re filming.”

Lizzie nods her head, looks to the musician singing at the corner. “What’s wrong with a little passion?”

The laughs of a few customers occupy Hope’s attention. She doesn’t pay much mind to Lizzie’s question. New orders come and she goes to take care of them, takes note of what they want and when she passes Lizzie again, the blonde’s eyes are studying her.

“Seems busy tonight,” notes Lizzie.

Hope rolls her eyes, flexing her fingers as a waiter takes the glasses. “As it is most of the time. And it's past your bedtime, _Elizabeth_. No one to take your picture?”

The actress laughs at her sarcasm, but when her phone rings and she looks at it, Hope knows that it's her cue to leave.

“Too busy for real death to be taken away by my deadly beauty,” she replies as she gets up, slides her fifty bill under the glass even if Hope never asks her to pay.

Hope only plays with the rag on her hand. It needed to be dried, now that she touched it. Or perhaps she should buy a new one, the glasses weren’t being cleaned right.

“Have a good shooting tomorrow,” says Hope. She isn’t scared but a shudder passes through her at how Lizzie’s smirk edges a bit too far at her choice of words.

She leaves with a wave and Hope with a pragmatic look on her face, too busy thinking to notice the waiter calling for her attention.

* * *

Hope catches things fast.

If something is happening in Mystic Falls, be it legal or not, she’d probably get a hint of it before the police or anyone else does. It’s also perhaps why most of the police came to her for help.

When the murders start, she doesn’t pay it much attention. Murder in Mystic Falls is as common as the flu. What worried her, however, was what the men that preferred the shadows of her club for more than one reason would say about them.

_Such a cold blooded murderer, this fella. Found this man’s body in the middle of the bar and with no suspect._

_Heard about poor ol’ Henderson? The police found him and his brains in the trash can._

_No suspect at all. Whoever this man is, he’s challenging the police truly._

Hope doesn’t need to ask for information. The information simply gets to her, and if it's helpful, it also gets to the police in a closed envelope.

She’s in the middle of hearing Jack, an old man with more evictions in his life than years, when Lizzie appears. The actress is wearing a sinful black dress, the white coat thrown on top of it not hiding its beauty in the slightest. Hope lets herself stare for a moment, before she smiles and looks into ocean eyes.

“How’s your evening, Lizzie?”

Lizzie can only wave her hand dismissively, drinking the shot Hope offers her without breathing. “The production is taking more time than it should. I’m tempted to become the director myself.”

“Or get rid of him,” muses Hope out loud, eyes trained on the glass she had on her hand. When she looks up and sees Lizzie’s smirk, she knows that whatever she said in her half focused state was the right thing.

“What is with you and murder, Mikaelson?”

“All the years working here does make one a cynic, baby.”

Lizzie bites her lip to contain her smile. “It does fit you though. Cynic bartender who puts justice in its place.”

Hope rolls her eyes as she turns her back to Lizzie, grabbing other bottles to make the orders of other customers. There was a faint light coming behind Lizzie, making her blonde hair seem almost shiny. Hope liked the view, liked Lizzie’s smile as she talked with a man who seemed to know her.

What she doesn’t like, however, is the same man dying an hour after Lizzie left and when she was just closing the bar. The bitter almond scent coming from his glass confirmed all Hope had to know; cyanide poisoning.

Whoever did it was going to pay. Hope could allow herself to fight for crime or ignore one or two, but she’d rather die than let her club be used as a crime scene.

* * *

_Elizabeth Saltzman is an actress. Born in Mystic Falls and daughter of the late Alaric Saltzman and Caroline Forbes. She’s a year younger than Hope and is steadily rising in fame with the help of her publicist and sister, Josie Saltzman. She might be an alcoholic and has a clean state in the crime world._

Every connection Hope has ends up giving her the same story, almost to a T. It’s too good and simple to be true, the first clue that Hope knows there is something fishy going on. No actress in their times could be that clean of any type of dirt.

When Lizzie comes that night, late and after the club has closed down, she finds Hope sitting on a chair beside the counter, an open bottle of gin resting beside her.

“Drinking your nerves away?” says Lizzie as she reaches her.

Hope only pushes the bottle in Lizzie’s direction. “I’m not the type to drink.”

The bottle is popped open easily by Lizzie’s quick fingers. She keeps her attention on the glass as she fills it halfway. Hope doesn’t talk, simply looks to the windows on the far side of the club.

“I’m not alcoholic enough to drink a whole bottle, Hope. But thank you for the drink.” Lizzie raises her glass to Hope with a knowing smirk. 

Hope isn’t surprised she knows, nor embarrassed at being caught. “Just being nice,” replies Hope instead.

She lets Lizzie drink in silence for a while, the only noise the cars in the streets. Hope doesn’t move, even if she sees she had forgotten the lights of the scene on, the only way she could see the blue of Lizzie’s eyes.

“What do you want to know?”

Hope turns her head then, leans her chin on her open palm. “What do you want to tell me, Lizzie?”

“A lot of things.” Her reply is as vague as it can be, Hope isn’t surprised. 

“Do you have a cigar?” asks Lizzie out of the blue. Hope nods and takes out a _Camel_ cigar from her breast, enjoying how Lizzie’s eyes darken and shine when Hope helps her light it. Lizzie lets out a breath of smoke as Hope gets ready to talk. “What makes you so interested in my life?”

“What makes you interested in mine, Hope?”

Hope grows impatient, taps her fingers without a tune in mind. “Stop with your mind games and tell me what I’m asking you to.”

Lizzie’s eyes grow in size before they look away. Hope notices how she circles the glass with her finger. “You must be referring to the murders, I assume.”

Hope nods her head. Lizzie is silent for another moment and then she delicately grabs the gun from the inside of her coat. She places it on the counter, the gun shining under the low light of the club.

“I’m not related to them,” states Lizzie. Hope grabs the gun and touches it, wipes a speck of blood from its edge.

“Let’s hope another murder in my club doesn’t happen then.”

The challenge is clear in her words, the trap laid bare and clean. Lizzie, for all its worth, doesn’t show any emotion, her face a practiced calm only actresses could put on.

“I hope the same, darling.”

* * *

A murder does happen again.

Hope nearly yells when she sees the dead body fall on the ground. Someone immediately goes to check his pulse, yet Hope knows that it’s futile. The man has died and there is nothing she can do but call the police.

Lizzie walks in after five minutes, lowers her head in respect as she walks beside Hope. “I’ll recommend your club to my director for the movie. No need for props or fake dead bodies when you have the real thing.”

Hope only glares at her. “This isn't good for my business. _At all.”_

Lizzie stares as they take the body away, hidden by a white sheet. Both of them are left alone after that, most of the customers leaving and the police too. The club is a mess, chairs left here and there and blood on the floor.

“I might know someone who can help you with this problem,” says Lizzie after an hour of silence, Hope tired and sweaty as she rubbed the floor on her knees.

“Who? Old John or Henderson’s friend?”

Lizzie smiles and looks at Hope over her glass. “Neither. I’ll talk to him and I’ll tell you.” Hope sighs loudly and she takes the gin glass from her hand with a grateful look on her face. Lizzie watches her as she gets up and fills her glass again.

“But-” Hope's breath hitches as Lizzie gets up to stand behind her, their bodies close, “-there is another way to end this.”

The room is silent, only the quiet hums of the jazz from the radio still drifting through the air.

Lizzie’s hand is warm, caresses Hope’s neck almost like a feather, too delicate and yet burning her skin like coal. She drags her nail at the nape of her neck, almost as if tracing something invisible there.

“Imagine losing control for a moment,” whispers Lizzie, her tone so low that Hope feels her skin explode in goosebumps. 

It feels like making a deal with the devil, letting it whisper the most delicious sin in your ear. She knew how Eve felt in those moments, with Lizzie so close that they could have been one body.

“Let that consume you, Hope. No more troubles for you, no more pesky police. Only the warmth of blood once and then,” Hope nearly whimpers as Lizzie lays a soft kiss under her ear, “nothing more.”

Hope grips the table until her hand becomes white, eyes staring at the bloody rag on her hand and body lit by Lizzie’s hand resting on her lower back, her other holding Hope’s hair.

“It’s so easy, _baby._ Join me for a little fun. Stop acting like you don’t know what I’m capable of doing. What _you_ are capable of doing for me.”

Hope can imagine it so clearly. _That’s_ the worst of it.

Can imagine the poor man standing in the dark alley behind the bar, waiting to meet with Lizzie.

Can imagine how Lizzie will smile at him, full of a seductiveness Hope has been a receiver of. How he will lower his guard and not notice her sneaking behind him.

Can imagine her happiness when he drops on the ground, no more murders and with blood on her hands as a result.

Letting loose had never been her thing, always held back by a devoted lover such as Landon. But Lizzie was there, offering her a chance out, a chance to let herself go on an almost feral state, get to touch with the darkest part of herself for the greater good and then be able to control it.

That’s possibly why when Lizzie’s entire body is flush behind her and her hand sneaks in front of Hope, a gun resting in it, Hope grabs it and can almost breathe freely when she grips it tightly.

“Good girl,” murmurs Lizzie and Hope absolutely _burns_ from her tone. 

She isn’t scared when Lizzie wraps her hand around Hope’s and raises the gun. She stops breathing again when its muzzle rests on her chin, Lizzie’s breath against her ear enough for her lungs.

“You’ve always made me curious, Hope,” says Lizzie, her tone too casual for the moment they were passing. “Curious to know more, curious as to why I despised the fact Josie liked you. Curious to know _what_ she saw in you.”

Hope’s chest tightens as Lizzie turns her around slowly, until all she can do is lean against the table and let it dig on her back. 

Lizzie stares at her in wonder, blue eyes almost too dark as she stared at the gun and in her eyes. She looks dangerous, her black dress and red lipstick making her even more alluring. Only now could Hope understand why she was called the deadly beauty.

And it had nothing to do with the gun she was holding against Hope’s chest.

“I can see it now,” said Lizzie, thoughtful for a moment. “I’ll decide tomorrow upon what to do with it.”

Still holding the gun against her skin, Lizzie leans closer, her lips bloody red as they touch Hope’s cheek, laying the softest and longest of kisses there. Hope raises her hand without Lizzie asking her to, taking the gun once again.

When Lizzie steps away, lipstick smudged, Hope wonders if letting Lizzie murder her would be enough to satisfy the dark part of her that wanted to see if her blood would be as red as her lipstick against Lizzie’s skin.

* * *

It all goes to plan until the very last minute.

All she thinks about all day, all she _could_ think about all day was Lizzie. Everything reminded Hope of her. She’d be filling a tumbler of gin and thinking about how sweet drinking it from Lizzie’s glass felt like. A pretty blonde walked in and Hope hated how her hair was so bland that she couldn’t pretend she was Lizzie for even one fleeting moment.

Then she is going through her mail and her heart drops when she sees the name written in one.

_From: Landon Kirby_

He is as sweet as ever, Hope notices. He asks her how the club is doing and how she’s holding up and she can almost pretend things are as they used to be, where she’d soak in his softness and pretend it healed her scars.

But then he talks about reuniting. He says he bought her a ticket and perhaps that’s what sets her nerves, even if she knows all he had in mind was to be helpful. 

She hates that. Hates that he makes it a fact that of course she’d accept and join him in California, of _course_ he had to buy her a ticket, as _if_ she could ever afford it. Hope hates that all her life she had to make sure he was okay, that he didn’t feel inferior from her and that _she_ would accept his help to make him feel confident in his abilities as a capable person.

As if it was her duty to make him a man. She felt like laughing then; how could she make him something he wasn’t?

But then she thinks of Lizzie. How the girl never did anything for her, how she was sure Hope could do anything if she was lured by it. How Lizzie was possibly going to murder her tonight and the plan to kill the man was simply just that, a plan of one of Lizzie’s past sins.

She knew, deep down, that the dark glint in Lizzie’s eyes the previous night wasn’t just because of the simple need to kill a man and end the terror in the city. Hope knew that perhaps her feral wish was something she and Lizzie both shared.

Hope could easily not go to her tonight. She could take the ticket Landon bought her and leave, safe and sound and days later, in the arms of the man who she thought she loved and who loves her.

Or she could risk it, risk her life and all only to see Lizzie, only for the slight chance that she could get to taste the most addictive thing: freedom.

And as she lowers the letter, she had already made her choice.

* * *

The clicking of her heels echoed in the alley, her hands almost shaking as she coughed from the typical smoke of the streets. She finds Lizzie easily, standing alone and staring at the empty road.

“Lizzie.”

The actress turns around and Hope isn’t surprised, nor scared, when she sees the gun Lizzie is holding in her hand. Lizzie’s eyes widen when she sees her, yet she smiles when Hope walks closer.

“I thought you had a bus to catch.”

Only then does Hope realize that perhaps she loved how Lizzie let herself know Hope enough for the shorter girl to surprise her.

“What can I say? I wasn’t in the mood for packing and leaving this behind.”

Lizzie stares at her without a reply. Hope stares back, a small smile in her face which doesn’t leave when the gun is raised.

“You knew,” says Lizzie, simple and straightforward. Hope nods her head, not afraid of the gun pointed at her heart.

“Not sad to be proven right,” teases Hope. 

Lizzie bites her lip, looking almost frustrated at how relaxed Hope is. “Would you believe me if I told you I don’t know why I want to kill you?”

Hope raises her hand and rests it on the barrel, eyes catching Lizzie’s in an intense gaze. Lizzie could do anything to her right there, could kiss her, could murder her, could do anything and Hope would let her. In those moments, all she felt for Lizzie was pure, as simple as love which drives you to the highest of highs and keeps you there could be.

“All this time, I thought that I had to get to know you to protect myself. Only now I can understand why.”

“Why?” she asks, breathless and intense.

“Because I wanted to know you, _understand_ you. Because understanding you- what you _are_ to me, meant I could love you freely,” confesses Hope.

She sees countless emotions pass through Lizzie’s face. Emotions she can’t understand, emotions she wants to understand. The gun drops on the ground with little noise, and when Hope sees light flicker on the ground, she is confused.

“Let me guess, you are seeing a word now,” says Lizzie, looking away. Their eyes meet when Hope murmurs her reply. Lizzie gives her a smile and takes her hands in a gentle hold, her hands grasping Hope’s like puzzle pieces.

“Say it out loud, because the same thing is happening to me.”

“What if something we don’t know happens?”

Lizzie only kept smiling. “Then we will face that together.”

Hope trusts her. 

There are times in your life, when you don’t know what a certain choice can lead to and all you know about it is the person telling you to make it. At that moment, Hope knew that whatever it led to, she trusted Lizzie. And that whatever it was, they’d face it together.

“ _Intelligo.”_

_“Accipio.”_

Then everything goes dark.

* * *

When she wakes up, Lizzie isn’t by her side.

Vardemus sits before her, reading a book in silence and raises his eyes only when Hope sits straighter, rubbing her head. “Ah, I see you woke up,” he says with a smile and closes the book, raising on his feet.

Everything dawns upon her then.

Lizzie telling her how she’s confused about some stuff. Hope saying she’s too, that she needs to figure it out before it affects her relationship with Landon anymore than it already has.

Them finding Vardemus, his smile gentle and helpful as he suggests the simulation. How he says he had made it safer than it was a year ago. Lizzie accepted and Hope too.

Then she nearly collapses when she remembers the simulation. Her attraction to Lizzie, their behavior, how she chose her over Landon, how close they were.

“When did Lizzie leave?” she asks. Vardemus looks at the grandfather clock at the corner with a smile.

“She woke up before you, about five minutes ago. She said that she was going to her room for a nap,” he answers.

Hope groans, rubbing her eyes from the nerves. She could easily ignore everything, act as if she forgot what happened in the simulation, as if it only proved the opposite of what she had realized.

But she couldn’t. As easy as that was, Hope couldn’t live her life in a lie that was more comfortable than the truth.

And she had promised Lizzie. She couldn’t break a promise.

_“What if something we don’t know happens?”_

_Lizzie only keeps smiling. “Then we will face that together.”_

“Miss Mikaelson, if I may ask,” Hope looks up at the man, a thoughtful look on his face, “what were your escape words?”

“Why do you ask?” she says, tone suspicious, mind still reeling from everything going through it. Vardemus smiles at her and with a wave of his hand, the simulation box on the desk flying to its place at the corner of his office. Hope enjoys how calm he is, understanding in a way Alaric could never be.

“The point of this simulation is to walk you through a scenario which will give a solution to what bothers your young mind. The escape word might as well be the main thing you have to do to solve the problem.”

Hope bites her lip in thought, digging through her mind to remember their words. It was embarrassing how her mind was only focused on Lizzie’s warmth and smile.

“Mine was _intelligo_ . Lizzie’s was _acceptio.”_

“Understand and accept,” he repeats, a hand under his chin scratching his beard.

“Is there anything you wanted to understand through this simulation, Hope?”

Hope thinks about Landon then. About how they were distancing, how she was finding herself spending more time with Lizzie, how she couldn’t understand why the rift was even happening.

She thinks of how good it felt to tell her feelings to Lizzie in the simulation, how she would choose a chance with Lizzie just because the girl gave her a freedom she had never felt before, over Landon.

Hope smiles then, something settling in her bones as everything falls in its place. It was almost ironic how she always ran away from her truth just for what she thought was the better good for everyone, not even taking the time to understand why she was doing so.

Perhaps the simulation was right with giving her _understand_ as the escape word.

“Thank you, professor,” she says, grabbing her coat as she rushes to leave. Vardemus waves her off with a gentle laugh. 

“I hope that it helped you and Miss Saltzman in your issues.”

Hope can only sigh loudly, closing the door as she did.

* * *

Finding Landon is easy. 

He sits in his bedroom, strumming on his guitar and his smile is wide when she walks in. She feels almost guilty for doing what she’d do, even if she knew it was for the best.

“How did the thing with professor Vardemus go?” he asks. Hope smiles, a tight smile filled with nerves which Landon immediately catches on as she sits beside him.

“Is everything alright?” Hope breathes in, breathes out. Lizzie’s smile is on her mind, gentle and teasing, always warm.

“I don’t think we can be together anymore.”

Landon’s smile drops and he looks away. She hates that she has to break his heart, even if it was for the best.

“It’s Lizzie, isn’t it?” he says. Hope’s heart stops and beats faster at the same time, the shock clear on her face by how Landon smiles sadly.

“I-”

He takes her hand then, stopping her. “It’s alright, Hope. You don’t have to lie to me. I’ve...known there was something there. Even if you couldn’t see it or if I couldn’t accept it.”

Hope tightens her hold on his hand, trying to anchor herself in his familiar warmth and strong hold. He was her first in many ways, the first to teach her to love and the first she’d always love.

But just because he was her first, didn’t mean he was her epic love, nor her last.

“I’m so sorry, Landon.”

Landon shakes his head and his thumb rubs gentle circles on her hand. “It’s alright. Is it okay if I ask for some time alone?”

Hope nods her head and when she gets up, she feels free and _relieved._ She doesn’t feel like crying, only gives Landon one last look and turns to leave.

“I hope she will make you as happy as you made me,” calls out Landon.

Hope smiles, nods her head and doesn’t turn to him. She knew he was sincere and meant good. It felt almost like a blessing and for that, Hope would always love him in a part of her heart. 

* * *

Lizzie was in her room as Vardemus had said, sitting on the couch beside the window, hair down and wavy, eyes dazed by the thoughtful look in her face.

“Hey,” says Hope.

She smiles and bites her lip, looking away to hide the affection in her eyes as Lizzie nearly jumps in the air.

“I thought you were a tribrid, not a fucking ghost.”

Hope walks closer and sits on the other side of the couch. She mimics Lizzie’s position, pulling her feet up and she likes how Lizzie giggles when Hope tickles her with her toes. “You left earlier,” states Hope.

Lizzie looks away from her again, her fingers playing with the loose threads of her Salvatore sweater. They don’t try to talk for a while, simply staring at the woods and how the moon slowly appears from behind the clouds, bathing the room and them in its light.

“I was thinking about why I wanted to kill you. In the simulation. I guess it had to do with my word being _acceptio_ as Vardemus told me _._ ” 

Hope stares at her from the corner of her eyes, giving her the silence Lizzie needs to keep talking. The blonde sighs, looking tired and nervous at the idea of confessing her thoughts to Hope.

“All these years, I found a reason to hate you. First it was the fake rumors, then it was you taking dad’s attention. Then it was that you always found something else to focus on, be it saving Josie from herself and helping her heal or Landon.”

Hope only gives out her hand, still not turning her head to Lizzie. She smiles when Lizzie grabs it, slowly and as if scared that Hope would pull away.

“Sometimes I’d hate the fact that you and Josie liked each other. And it made no sense, because no matter what, I’d always support Josie.”

“Even if it meant seeing us kiss everyday?”

Hope laughs softly at Lizzie’s disgusted face. “Sadly, I love my sister too much so I’d keep the vomit in my mouth.” That joke seems to lighten the tension between them. Lizzie seems less tense too, hand warm in Hope’s and her thumb caressing her palm.

Hope enjoyed it, how at home her hand felt in Lizzie’s. Like two puzzle pieces coming together.

“I think-” Lizzie speaks slower than ever, as if she’s taking her time thinking each word, “-that what I wanted to do at the simulation, was simply what I have tried doing all these years.”

Hope raises an eyebrow. “Kill me? I knew you weren’t joking when you said I was better now as an activated tribrid.”

Lizzie glares at her, yet it melts when her eyes meet Hope’s. She stares at her, unafraid and for the first time, with no emotion hidden and all laid bare for Hope to see.

“I think that getting rid of what I felt for you- _hating_ you, was always going to be easier than accepting what I truly felt.”

After Lizzie says those words out loud, all tension leaves their bodies. Lizzie’s smile gets softer, her shoulders drop and Hope can hear how her heartbeat quickens.

“Hate is such an uncomplicated feeling, isn’t it?” asks Hope out loud, to no one and yet at both of them. Lizzie nods her head and leans closer, her chin resting between Hope’s raised knees.

“And now?” adds Hope. “What is easier?”

Lizzie can only smile and Hope has no choice but to lean in.

“I think that loving you is the easiest thing I can do right now beside breathing.”

This time, unlike others, Hope lets herself feel feely, lets herself loose and once again, she feels how easy and simple it is loving Lizzie. How at its primal state, love was nothing but finding home in someone’s heart, a home where you could feel free.

And Lizzie was the only home she could ever imagine living her life in.

“Hope Andrea Mikaelson,” whispers Lizzie. Hope can only hum in acknowledgment, eyes closed and only focused on how nice it felt to have Lizzie so close to her now that she opened her legs and the blonde rested against her chest.

“Mm?”

“I love you.”

Hope smiles then, a smile too similar to the one she had flashed Lizzie back after their first simulation years ago.

“I love you too, Lizzie.”

Kissing Lizzie as they bathed in the moonlight is how their story begins again, this time real and true.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> if u wanna take part in hizzie month go check out the acc @hizziearchive for more info!! 
> 
> also tell me anything extra on my twitter @thehopesaltzman


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